THIS YEAR`S CUBS PLAYING FULL-BORE

Every baseball team has its own personality. And with this season about a third over, the personality of the current Cubs team has been established. It`s boring. It might be the most boring Cubs team I`ve ever seen.

That doesn`t mean it`s the worst Cub team ever, a distinction that probably belongs to some of the last-place teams of the late `40s and early

`50s.

Nor is it the most irritating. For irritation, few teams could match the Cubs of the 1970s, who whined and moaned almost as intensely as they loafed and sniffed dope.

And it isn`t the most disappointing. Ultimately, every Cub team is a disappointment. The only question is whether they will keep us in suspense and flop late, or do us all a favor and flop early.

But this outfit. It`s not bad enough to give us a laugh. It`s too well paid to whine. And the only suspense they provide is in challenging us not to doze off.

I flip on my TV. The leadoff hitter is a young man named Jerome.

Jerome looks like a leadoff hitter. He is lean and fast. The only trouble with Jerome is that he seldom gets on base. His batting average is less than his weight. That means that he will make five and a half outs for every time he gets a hit.

For this minimal contribution, he is paid several hundred thousand dollars a year.

There are people in our society who devote their lives to mastering a trade or profession. In their best years, working long hours, they won`t earn 20 percent of Jerome`s salary. Some people run businesses and will never have as good a year as Jerome. Others spend half their ulcerated lives on the road, peddling, selling, cajoling, wheedling, and if they don`t do the job, they don`t get paid.

I don`t begrudge Jerome. If someone is willing to pay him that much money, he would be a sap not to take it.

But you would think that by now a young man raking in that kind of loot would have learned that if the pitcher throws four bad pitches, the batter can trot to first base.

He has been playing the game since he was a child. He`s had all sorts of coaches in Little League, high school, the minors, and in what Chicagoans laughingly call The Big Time.

At some point, someone must have told him: ”Four bad pitches, Jerome, and you are awarded first base free. Isn`t that amazing?”

Not Jerome. He steps up to the plate and flails at the very first pitch. Then he goes and sits down in the dugout.

The manager doesn`t walk over and say something. Nor do the many coaches whose job seems to be to just sit and stare and occasionally scratch.

Not one of them went to Jerome and said: ”Jerome, you are paid all that money to get on base. That is your job. But you did it again. You swung at the first pitch. Jerome, you are a real —-head.”

That might anger Jerome. Some people can`t face the truth. Especially

—-heads. So he might scream at the coach. Which would be fine. It would be more entertaining than everybody just sitting there staring and scratching. Or one of them might have even slapped Jerome. Something like shock treatment: ”Wake up, Jerome (slap), think, Jerome, think (slap), try to remember what we taught you (slap). Don`t swing at the first pitch, (slap), you overpaid —-head (slap).”

That surely would have angered Jerome and he might have slapped or punched the coach back. Then they could have wrestled and tumbled around the dugout and had to be dragged apart by their teammates. That would have been inspirational, since it would have indicated that they were taking an interest in their work.

But nothing like that happens on this deadly dull Cubs team. They don`t hit the ball very often or very far. They don`t run very fast. They don`t whine, rant, rave, curse each other or the other team or even the sports reporters. Harry Caray could probably accuse them of eating puppies and kittens and they wouldn`t notice.

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They should trade them all, the good, the bad, the indifferent. Yes, and to Cleveland or Minnesota or Milwaukee. If they choose to be dull, let them go work in dull cities. Chicago is a lively city. Occasionally corrupt, usually violent, but lively. It deserves more than a dugout full of thin zombies.

So trade them for players who drink, spit, swear, get in fights. Maybe a lot of fat players. Some of our greatest stars have been fat. Hack Wilson, a fearsome slugger, was not only fat but he was a fat drunk. We wouldn`t be bored by a team made up of fat drunks who could hit home runs. That would be better than skinny millionaires who can`t hit singles.

But if they won`t do that, then the coaches should try slapping.

On the other hand, Jerome might not even notice.